The Walled City Of A Spirited Lad
by itsbecauseshesblack
Summary: Sam "Dean" Winchester meeting Rory Gilmore sets off a bunch of bad karma and infidelity, wreaking havoc on the town of Stars Hollow and Dean "Sam" Winchester's life. It's a tale of romance and murder, freewill and honor, sacrifice and intimacy. I'll update every week !


**Author: itsbecauseshesblack**

 **Rating: M for later chapters and swearing.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Gilmore Girls, just the ideas for this story.**

 **A/N: It's nowhere near being finished as I began this last night, so hang tight and bear with me~!**

DEAN

Stars Hollow is a shit town, and that's putting it nicely. I mean, a few thousand people, and only two bars? How juvenile. These people are plain freaks, no doubt about it; who would hold a knitting competition or dance marathon rather than a wet t-shirt show? The Jiffy Stop stops selling beer after 12am, whether it's Sunday or not. Why is it so hard to get wasted without gross creative methods? Trust me, making hooch in someone else's toilet is nine kinds of wrong, man. Bacteria from familiar asses is grody. Can you imagine the embarrassment of your family walkin' in to take a piss, and there you are on the floor, drinking straight from the source of their adventure? Yeah, I'd rather stay sober... that's a sad statement.

Forget I said that.

Plus, the girls here are waaaay too strange and boring; if I see one more Hello Kitty backpack or Spongebob notebook, I'm growin' my hair out to be a pansy fairy just like Sammy. Maybe throw on a pair of skinnies and dye my awesome hair purple... that'd be the day. The ladies love how my hair seems messy but styled to perfection, when I just don't brush it. Not that there's much to work with anyway; as I said, Sam's the one with the gender problems. And I'm not sayin' that young kids shouldn't have all that dopey crap like dolls and novelty clothes, but c'mon, 19 year old fine-ass females? It just ain't right, makes me wanna hurl. There's some delicious pussy out there for the taking, but I can't get away from the iCarly sunglasses and freaking orange Crocs. Seriously, that's a thing. Ugh. I swear, this is the lamest city ever, so of-fucking-course dad would get a job here. Just my luck, right?

I hope you can you taste the sarcasm.

So yeah, dad landed a gig in Bumfuck, Nowhere and I'm SO thrilled. Really, clicking my heels. And don't get me started on Sam, he's out of his mind delirious right now. Met some local chick and has made a cozy spot in her heart or whatever geeky poetry bullshit. He's almost like a little stalker, has her bus times written down in his journal (why yes, I do read my brother's diary, and if you'd like to, look under his mattress. How predictable). Right now, he's in our basement with the hand drill, making her something for an upcoming birthday. He's really not supposed to be using the tools without me or dad present, but I'd rather not be near him when he's being a sappy female and crying unicorn tears. it's sad to see my little brother being whipped by a broad he's known for less than a month, but who would I be to stop him from getting a little action? My dry spell shouldn't affect him, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. Not that I'd tap anyone within a 20 mile radius from here, but still.

I do miss getting laid though, more than anything.

He could do so much better, the kid's a freaking genius after all. He reads like it's going out of style, befriends everyone he comes across like stray dogs, AND he's memorized the entire periodic chart. He's only four years younger, yet has me beat in all the smart shit... which isn't a hard feat. What does this Stars Hollow redneck bimbo have that a hot science babe in Ireland or Russia wouldn't? All I'm saying is, she's not his best option, now or later. Kid's gotta make his own mistakes though, and he could use some practice with the ladies. I should really grill him on his finesse in front of her if she ever comes over, maybe that would drive her away. If not, it'd still be hilarious.

Humiliation is what big brothers are for.

Anyway, aside from him, mom's also glad to be here. That improves my opinion on this place a few points, but a few is less than five. Maybe four. If she's happy, then we all are, but that doesn't mean that I have to say as much. Mary Winchester is the best mother known to man with the nicest smiles and golden hair (no I'm not fawning over her, just spittin' the truth, assface), so if Stars Hollow is good for her, then... I can deal. For now. Her and dad take walks and visit odd trinket shops all the damn time; ya know, sappy couple stuff. That is, when he's not hammered. It really pisses me off too, because where in the hell is he getting his supply? I have my own illegal ID and there's not many places he could go to buy, so I'm beyond confused. It'd be better if our opportunities could switch and HE'D be the one with failure attempts at drinking his life away; God knows mom would be thrilled.

I should really hide his keys from now on.

Don't get me wrong, dad's a good guy (when he feels like it), and is never a mean drunk (if not behind closed doors), and he loves us all (us being mom plus his job), so I can't complain... much. Okay, he's a jackass, but he puts a new roof over my head every few months and doesn't bruise my face, so it's all good. Sammy would say otherwise, but he never ever ever gets his ass handed to him on a regular basis, so he can shut up. That twinkle-toed dork is always shoved behind me whenever dad decides to play live target shooting, or is forced into our room to wait it out. I protect him, it's my job, and I'm fuckin' great at it. And he's never tried to get past me to the kid either, just as happy to pound my ribs and break my fingers in all its glory. I take it and let Sammy wrap me up afterward so he won't feel guilty about it; his heart is made of solid nerd gold, but I can't say that his bone setting skills aren't up to par. It comes in handy at the Winchester abode.

Not that anyone outside of us would know that.

There are perks about this dumb excuse of a "neighborhood" though, and that's Luke's Diner and the man's pie. Anyone who knows anything should be smart enough to recognize my love for the certain dessert, and the head cook/owner/douche bag has wormed his way into my heart. Or stomach, but same thing. The dude may be a little on the rude side or perhaps a lot, but I'd sell my damned soul for another piece of his raspberry surprise cobbler. I know I know, pie and cobbler aren't twins or anything, more like cousins, but it's not like I'm cheating here. It's a family reunion in my happy tummy (tell anyone I just said that, and you're next on my list to suffer). Seriously though, I wish my mom could take lessons from Luke Danes, or maybe marry him for my sake. The man knows how to sugar up some tasty crust, firm enough to cut a fork threw but light enough to relax my jaw between chews. I tried asking him once how he did it, but the madman just stared at me for 10 seconds and walked off with my empty dish. Him and Bobby would get along great, that much is for sure.

Dad would hate him, though.

But yeah, I found his shop accidentally when we first moved here, and I fell head over heels instantly. Dad had sent me a few blocks away in search of a hammer and screws; we had a swing to set up for mom on the old wooden porch we began renting. At first I was miffed, as if he thought I was a tour guide or somethin' and could just navigate my way around without getting lost. As small as this place is, the winding trails and misplaced roads threw me off there for awhile. But with much patience and a few curses later, William's Hardware came into view. I didn't see it at first because of that stupid gazebo in the middle of everything was blocking the corner-shop, but it's a freaking good thing I'm resilient. Imagine my shock when I opened the door and was hit by waves of food heaven, bustling with hungry folks and plates floating over heads. Coffee steam greeted me at the counter, as well as chiding laughter when I asked the older guy behind the counter if he sold hardware for real. The face he gave could rival Sammy's bitch faces, I swear, it was a comical moment. But the nosy townsfolk spoke for him, and some morbidly obese woman suggested that I buy a slab of pie and try Doose's Market down the street. I'm never one to misplace the judgment of fat people, so I took her advice and the rest is history.

This place isn't so bad, I guess.


End file.
